Bro Time
by animatedbrowneyes
Summary: Rachel, Santana, and Puck have a few minor complaints about their women. Only a few, okay?


**Title: **Bro Time

**Author: **animatedbrowneyes

**Prompt: **Puck, Santana and Rachel being bros and talking about their ladies (Luck, Brittana and Faberry).

**Disclaimer: **Honestly, if I owned _Glee,_ I'd be fixing the crappy writing myself and erasing ships that irritate me.

Found this on the glee_fluff_meme, wanted to try it out. I guess it contains potential spoilers for 2x22, "New York". Hope it is enjoyed! :)

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><p>The harsh, unyielding roars of a machine gun nearly made her eardrums explode as she raised her firearm higher, warily looking for the enemy, but found no real resistance.<p>

She grinned at the sight of three opponents surrendering their weapons, faces long and their plans thwarted. Excellent. Her mood was abruptly stamped out when she turned her comrades, only to realize her foes had pulled out grenades, annihilating themselves, her team, and herself in a gory splatter of limbs, to her upmost frustration.

_"Mission failed. We'll get 'em next time."_

"Damn it, Rachel!" Puck yelled at the top of his voice. "You made us lose!"

"I'm sorry, okay!" Rachel shouted furiously, chucking the controller at the wall and crossing her arms as she slouched backwards into her chair. "I tried!"

"No excuse," Santana grumbled, disapproving. "You're normally a psycho beast at this game. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Rachel's frown deepened, but she didn't answer. Puck rolled his eyes, habitually, and shut off the PS3 and returned to his seat, looking equally disgruntled as the other two.

These get-togethers began just after junior year ended, after the Nationals victory. Santana had approached Rachel with a small query of friendship, wanting someone she considered to be trustworthy upon getting to know them and for lack of stable company that didn't lean toward backstabbery and popularity. Rachel had accepted immediately, liking the variety, very different from spending time with Kurt and Blaine. Once Puck had learned of their—regrettably, in his mind—platonic powwows, he demanded access as the third member of their partnership. Rachel allowed it, while Santana took bribes in the form of Breadstix coupons until she was finally appeased.

Thus, the video games, and occasional talks about their feelings, before hurriedly shrugging off sentiments and grunting about other stuff.

Yes, even Rachel.

"Come on, Rach. What's up?" Puck ground out, gnashing his teeth together. "You haven't been on your daily happy-pills anymore. 'S fuckin' depressing."

"Yeah," Santana agreed, raising an eyebrow. "What gives?"

"Quinn's hinting to settling again," Rachel mumbled reluctantly. "It's bothering me that she doesn't understand her real potential. New York can include her, too."

"That's the Lima Loser mindset," Puck announced, resigned. "She thinks that she's only good enough for here—she thinks she'll be stuck in Lima, just like her mom."

"Not only do I find that stupid and ridiculous," Rachel growled, a possessive edge coloring her tone, "but I wonder when and why _you_ know of that as well."

"Sophomore year, B. The baby drama. Relax," the football player barked, throwing up his hands in irritable defeat. "I've got my own woman, thanks."

"Right," Santana snorted, examining her fingernails. Puck glowered at her.

Happily for Puck, he and Lauren were still going steady, up to the present, the spring of their senior year. Similarly, Brittany and Santana had been dating since the conclusion of Nationals, sealing the deal with a live, televised kiss from a nervous, determined-to-prove-herself Santana, almost getting them disqualified but earning Brittany's delighted assent. Rachel, on the other hand, needed a summer and up to October of courting for Quinn to acquiesce to be her girlfriend, out and at school in all.

"So that's what's annoying you," Puck surmised. "Quinn. Anything else?"

"What are you, Ms. Pillsbury?" Santana queried bluntly.

"Um, yeah, that's what friends do, dumbass. Is there something up _your_ ass, Lopez? I mean, besides what Brittany _bought—_OW!"

Santana lowered a spare shoe from under Puck's bed, sneering as Puck rubbed his forehead, looking outraged. Rachel suppressed an amused smile.

They were an odd trio.

"The cripple's trying to make a play for Britt again while she's mad at me. Happy? That's what's annoying the shit out of me, Puckerman."

"Why is she mad at you?" Rachel inquired.

Santana rolled her eyes. "I forgot about showing up for her Fondue for Two webshow again. I had to make up an Algebra test."

"And she hasn't forgiven you yet?"

"No! It was an accident! I offered to go on with her, like every episode or whatever, but she's now ignoring me."

"Rough," Puck muttered. Santana nodded, pursing her lips, as if debating whether to ask about _his_ love life. Rachel understood her old vexation with Lauren and spoke up.

"And you? Anything to share with us?" Rachel asked kindly, patting his bicep, and Puck sighed.

"Lauren's being insecure again."

Rachel nodded, sympathizing with that, while Santana's gaze looked a hairsbreadth's softer than before.

"I just really like her," Puck grumbled, offhandedly again, "and she keeps doubting me. I haven't cheated on her, ever. I wouldn't. 'S not how I roll anymore."

The three sat in contemplative silence, before Puck began smirking, eyeing Rachel closely.

"What?" Rachel questioned, uncomfortable. Puck grinned at Santana, wiggling his eyebrows, and the Latina caught on immediately, adopting a similar grin. "_What_?"

"The two of us have been a little curious," Puck explained, leering, "how far you and Quinn have gotten yet?"

Rachel blushed. "That's none of your business, Noah. Santana, you too."

"Come on," Santana complained. "We won't tell anyone."

"Except each other," Puck added lecherously, making an obscene gesture. Santana cackled.

Rachel scowled. "You first, Puckerman."

Puck smirked, and said nothing, and offered a simple wink.

"Gross," Santana exclaimed, hand covering her eyes. "Images, images, images. Thanks a fuckin' lot, Puck. Now I have visions of a beached whale and a drowned surfer."

"Hey!" Puck protested loudly. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about! I like her just fine the way she is!"

"Santana, stop," Rachel ordered sternly. "Insulting Lauren goes against the contract you signed last summer. Remember?"

"The Bro Contract?" Santana jeered mockingly. "Really, Rachel, I applauded that one. More points to you being a total Type A."

Puck snickered, despite himself.

"Well, why don't you continue, Santana?" Rachel prodded. "Since you and Brittany are clearly on cloud nine at all times and _all_ places."

"Janitor's closet? Under the stage?" Puck guessed loftily, and Rachel nodded rigidly, looking revolted. Santana smiled wider.

"I think the question _is,_ what haven't Brittany and I done."

"That's so hot," Puck proclaimed immediately. "Damn...whew. Okay, Rachel. Your turn. Share it with the class."

Rachel mumbled something incomprehensible.

Santana cupped her ear pointedly, while Puck leaned his chin on his hand, impatient, until Rachel grudgingly relented, clearing her throat.

"Second base," the shorter brunette squeaked, but held up an inch between her index finger and thumb, "but I was _this_ close to third. This close!"

Predictably, Puck cheered obnoxiously as Santana golf-clapped quickly, smirking. Rachel groaned.

"Get it!" The boy exclaimed, doing a one-man wave. "Go Rachel!"

"Slide into home," Santana stage-whispered suggestively, dark eyes sparkling with laughter. "Got that?"

"Got it," Rachel grumbled, face flushed red. "Must you two be so obscene?"

"Duh."

"Where the hell have you been all this time?"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Now that you two are done being provocative, sex-obsessed sociopaths, can we get something to eat?"

"Yeah, we should all get something to _eat_," Puck snickered, licking his lips.

"She meant food, you sick perv!" Santana yelled. "Jesus. Turn off the gross-o-meter, would you? I can't insult Zizes, and I also don't want to _think_ about her, Puckerman!"

"That's good," Puck nodded dreamily. "She's all mine..."

"Breadstix?" Santana remarked, as she and Rachel shared a weary look. The three clambered out of Puck's bedroom, but met resistance in the hallway. Santana grunted.

"What...oh," the ex-cheerleader began, seeing the obstruction, only to wilt under her girlfriend's rare, stern glare. "Hey...Britt."

Puck smiled meekly at Lauren. "Hi, babe."

"Quinn," Rachel gasped. "Oh, hi. We were just...t-talking! Talking...about Call of Duty—you know those dreadful replications of the Nazis and their zombie faces, so..."

The two blondes and third brunette simply scowled at their respective partners, feet tapping, arms crossed expectantly.

"I don't think so," Lauren growled at last. "We heard locker room talk, morons."

"Babe, it wasn't—"

"Quiet."

Puck dipped his head, shoulders drooping. Rachel tried another approach.

"It wasn't anything remotely insulting to you, ladies. I swear, we meant no harm to you, or your honors, or your dignities. We were merely expressing—"

"Rachel," Quinn snapped, and Rachel squeaked, joining Puck in guilty, obedient silence.

"Brittany," Santana attempted, smiling weakly, "you know how I am. You and your hot body can't just _not _be praised. I gotta say something occasionally!"

Quite unexpectedly, Brittany beamed, frown erased on the spot.

"Really, San?"

"Of course," Santana countered quickly. "You're smokin'."

"Let's go to Breadstix!" Brittany insisted brightly, to Santana's delight. "I want meatballs, and then, we can make a Fondue for Two episode, and then..."

The duo practically skipped down the stairs, giggling, to Rachel and Puck's quiet indignation.

"She gets off scot free?" Puck exclaimed. "What the hell?"

"That's not particularly fair," Rachel agreed, sneaking a tentative, hopeful glance at Quinn. Quinn glowered, making Rachel shrink back.

"Santana's getting off. You, however, Ms. Second Base-Rounding Third, won't be getting any."

"What?" Rachel yelped, aghast. "You were the one who convinced me to quit the no-sex-until-twenty five rule!"

Puck chuckled.

"Neither are you," Lauren told her boyfriend, contemptuous. Puck promptly sulked, scuffing his sneaker on the floor. Rachel felt inclined to join him, pouting.

"Why does Santana get all the luck?" Puck grumbled mutinously. Rachel silently conceded with his point.

"Because," Lauren chided nastily, as Quinn laughed, "she's planning to leave Santana high-and-dry later tonight. At least you two have a warning, unlike her."

"Brittany's a lot more devious than you guys think," Quinn added, smug. "Santana won't know what hit her."

Rachel and Puck grimaced, both imagining the storm of directionless rage they would encounter during their next bro time. It would certainly be explosive, to say the least.

_But,_ Puck mused as Rachel followed Quinn down the stairs, gaze fixed unashamedly on her girlfriend's skirt, _video games are great tools for relieving the sexually frustrated._

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><p><strong>END.<strong>


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